Palindrome
by Weaslie
Summary: This is the battle between Castiel, the memory of his father, overbearing siblings and the inherent stubbornness of one Dean Winchester. In other words, Castiel Novak finds two temporarily homeless, demon- hunting boys living in the woods behind his house. Things escalate from there. Destiel AU.
1. Saippuakivikauppias

**To get the horrible stuff out of the way:**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this fic and (unfortunately) do not make any money from writing.**

**Warnings: Suggestions of child abuse, child neglect (this is John Winchester we're talking about) and eventual homophobia. Not_ very_ triggery stuff, but still worth a mention. Cheery, I know...**

Chapter One- Saippuakivikauppias

The longest single palindrome in the whole of creation is the Finnish word 'saippuakivikauppias'.

This information is never going to save a life, or get you a job, or find you the love of your life; the only visible use of it, in fact, appears to be at certain dinner parties and even then only as a dead end conversation starter. It is a random little fact about weird little words, sentences or numbers that appear to have a metaphorical mirror jammed between them, starting exactly the same way as they finish.

One pairing of words that is definitely not a palindrome is Castiel Novak. All twelve letters arranged in a certain way to produce a certain sound to describe a certain boy with ten not so certain years behind him.

At this moment, this boy was jammed between his massive dresser and a wall, skinny knees pulled up tight to his chest and shoulders hunched while he scribbled in a notebook he'd found in his father's study two years ago. His neatly combed hair was pulled back behind his ears and his eyes were squinting through glasses with slim silver frames at the blue biro scrawl in front of him. Through the open window to his side came the only light in the room, the warm and dry July breeze that came with it carrying the quiet and muffled sounds of lawn mowers and expensive cars.

What a boy his age was doing inside at the peak of the summer holidays was, in fact, writing a list of palindromes. Not, by any means, the most normal of pastimes at any time of the year, but normal had never been something Castiel had known the concept of. So, while other boys pulled wings off flies or ate their weight in secret chocolate, Castiel pondered his life as a living, breathing palindrome who may not be as important as 'saippuakivikauppias' but was just as complicated.

xxx

He had started his life with death. As he breathed his first breath, his mother breathed her last. Castiel was fine with this, he wasn't racked with grief and guilt, it simply wasn't his fault. The thing he was certainly not fine about was the empty gap between this tragic event and him ending up on the doorstep of a hospital, wrapped in a blanket and with a sticky label reading '_CASTIEL_' stuck to his forehead. This, other than being sickeningly like a Dickens novel, lead him through six clichéd years filled with care homes, foster families and childhood angst.

Then came Father.

Abraham Novak was the kind of man that had a little house, a doting wife and 2.5 kids. Except he really wasn't. He and his now ex- wife first adopted poor orphan Michael into the Novak family, before she promptly ran off with the local clergy man just to add salt to the wound. For some strange (possibly passive aggressive) reason, Abraham then decided to foster a boy named Luke, followed three years later by Gabriel then Anna and then, of course, Castiel himself.

Father gave him brothers and a sister, a stable home and the name 'Novak'. Castiel owed everything to the man that had created a family for him and so did the rest of his mismatched relatives, for the first times in their lives they had peace.

Then Luke left.

Luke, the favourite son, all smiles and quick wit and a fierce protectiveness over his little family that even rivalled his father's. So full of smiles and wit and love in fact, that no one realized the change in him before it was too late. He left two years after Castiel arrived but not before breaking Michael's nose and Father's heart.

The sad thing about the metaphorical breaking of the man's heart was that it turned out not to be so metaphorical at all.

xxx

So yes, the stages of Castiel's life were, when simplified to the extreme, a palindrome. As written in the first page of aforementioned notebook:

_DEATH ABANDONMENT SADNESS HAPPINESS SADNESS ABANDOMENT DEATH_

This, when written in blue biro on yellowing note paper, seems a bit morbid, but it kept Castiel grounded. Kept him from floating up into the troubled world of crooked- nosed Michael. It gave him an aim: to smash the figurative mirror and break free from a trend that may or may not be purely psychological.

So he was being melodramatic... and he supposed sitting in his room pondering the meaning of his life was not something any self respecting ten year old would do, it certainly would not help his situation in any case. But it was better than going downstairs and facing his brothers though, so he stayed. Unfortunately, his brothers made a habit of coming to him.

Castiel had worked out some years ago that it took approximately 14 seconds for a person to walk from the slightly squeaky step five down from the top to the door of his room. This, apparently, was just enough enough time to force himself out of the little hiding place and stand up, push the large piece of furniture that had hidden him against the wall and brush the inevitable grey dust off his smartly pressed trousers. Today though, Castiel had only managed to shove the wardrobe before the sharp rap on the door heralded his eldest brother's arrival.

"Castiel?" he hastily ran his palms over his hair to get rid of any misbehaving cow-licks before answering.

"Yeah- I mean yes." The door slid open revealing the tall figure that was Michael. He was dressed in his church clothes- a dark suit and grey tie- his clean shaven face stern, his furrowed brow the only thing betraying the stress that he seemed to drag around.

"What were you doing?" he said, a note of resignation tainting his smooth voice as he took in Castiel's scruffy trousers and rumpled shirt. Castiel blushed and ducked his head, reaching down to tuck in his white shirt.

"Cleaning," he whispered sheepishly, face heating up at the lie.

"Right." Michael said slowly before rolling his eyes, "Breakfast is ready, be downstairs in two minutes so we're not late to church."

"Okay." Castiel muttered, staring at the bridge of Michael's crooked nose so not to make eye contact and squirming were he stood, itching to straighten his tie. Michael turned on his heel and stepped into the hallway, reaching behind him to shut the door as Castiel let out the breath he had been holding. Just before his brother moved out of sight though, he shifted back to look down at his sibling.

Michael was built like a football player, broad shouldered and constantly hitting his head on door frames, completely opposite to the slight and skinny Castiel. And yet they could almost be mistaken for biological family, they both had the dark hair and bright blue eyes, the seemingly ingrained austere posture and long limbs. This made it hard for Castiel to do anything but love Michael that bit more, especially at times like this quiet Sunday morning when he placed two hands on his younger brother's shoulders and looked him navy eye to navy eye.

"You are a good child. You _will _do this family proud. You are loyal, hard working and you would make Father proud. Do not be mislead by the demons that inhabit this world- this very house, I fact-" at this Michael scowled in the direction of Gabriel's room and Castiel cringed away slightly, "and you will do well. Just remember that for me, okay?"

"Of course." It made Castiel swell with pride as his brother smoothed down his already messed up hair after his spontaneous outburst. Michael only smiled slightly, before beckoning for him to follow him to breakfast. Maybe _this_ Sunday wouldn't be so bad.

xxx

Castiel stared at the blank white wall in front of him, trying to ignore the oppressive awkwardness in the ornate room and kicking himself for being so hopeful. Of course today wouldn't be good, it was a _Sunday. _Nothing ever happened on Sundays in the Novak's home that was anywhere near good; sons stormed out, fathers got diagnosed and Castiel's stupid brother always flaunted his bruises from breaking curfew. Castiel scowled up at the offending teen but Gabriel just grinned back through a mouthful of bran flakes and milk as he leisurely rolled the cuffs of his sleeves up around his elbows.

He had always been a trouble maker, the rebel of the family, even before things all went wrong. Something about his small smirks just screamed mischief, brown hair pushed back to reveal his sharp eyes and expressive face. Back when he was younger, when he seemed to have some small _ounce _of control, the tricks and the rule breaking had just been a bit of fun. Now days it was more to anger Michael, who today appeared to be alternating between sneering at Gabriel, reading his paper and seemingly denying everyone else's existence.

This typical breakfast time drama spanned the seemingly infinite time of about twenty minutes, the click of cutlery and the small rustling of Michael turning pages the only sounds. Castiel just kept quiet as he always did and finished half a box of cereal while doing so, making a note to tick off _SADNESS _in his notepad. Between the three of his siblings, they could more than fulfil the quota for this stage in The Palindrome.

After everything was cleared up and Michael had checked they were presentable, they all trooped out of the house and into Michael's car. Sitting shoulder to shoulder with Anna in the back seat, listening to Gabriel tap out a rhythm on the dashboard and Michael's knuckles slowly whitening on the steering wheel, Castiel almost wished he was back at breakfast. He glanced over at his sister and giggled slightly as she looked him in the eye before slamming her face into her hands. Castiel jabbed her in the ribs and grimaced to stop her before Michael turned around, feeling a little bit more love for his closest sibling regardless of her unrestrained antics.

Anna Novak was petite, pretty and (in the eyes of the many specialists Michael had paid) a mute. Castiel knew that, contrary to the fact that she had not uttered a word to anyone in the two years since Father had died, she could speak. He had a page dedicated to the conversation in his notepad, where she had admitted to being able to talk in scribbled red crayon. Castiel still felt proud at being his sister's only confidant, even if he did feel awful for keeping things from Michael.

Said brother was currently forcing a pleasant and charming smile while parking in the small road outside the church and eyeing Gabriel's loose tie with a hatred. Castiel scowled and prodded the back of his brother's seat while Michael's head was turned so the sixteen year old would face him. Gabriel's face lit up for a moment then darkened at Castiel's frown, before he turned away, reaching for the bunched up material at his elbows and pulling his sleeves down over his wrists.

Castiel brightened at this, Gabriel just needed to get control back and then they could be a proper family again. Anna would talk, Michael would laugh like he did with Luke and Gabriel would stop acting like a child and follow Michael's rules. Castiel was sure Michael was wrong when he said Gabriel was a demon, he remembered a time, before Luke left, when Gabriel was his favourite brother. Surely he couldn't have lost every little bit of grace he'd ever had? He remembered the day he had realized this for the first time and had written in his notepad, with a pencil he had found on the curb outside the house, that he promised to help get the real Gabriel back. He was still working on it.

Michael flicked the key in the ignition and the steady rumble of the engine cut out, leaving him to turn to each one of his siblings to make sure they looked presentable and happy. This, Castiel knew, was all part of the performance. They would get out of the car, file into the church and try to ignore the whispers and pitying stares of all the people inside. You'd have thought that they'd have run out of things to talk about in the two years since Father's death, but they hadn't, the same story of how his most faithful son battled for the rights of guardianship over his siblings still circulating. How his perseverance and faith in the Lord had helped him pull his family through the hardship into happier times.

Castiel was pretty sure this opinion would change if they had a non- conversation with Anna and spent more than five minutes with Gabriel, but he didn't comment as he watched Michael get about twenty shoulder squeezes as they filled their pew next to the alter. Castiel felt the small, heavy smile settle on his face as he pressed his back straight against the hard wood and watched as the Vicar climbed into the pulpit and searched for the right pages in the massive Bible in his hands.

This was going to be a long service.

**Next chapter is Dean and should be posted in a day or two. Please RandR, it would be amazingly appreciated :)**


	2. Mum

**Thanks for all the favourites and follows, it means a lot :) x**

Chapter Two- Mum

One of the shortest palindromes in the English language is 'Mum'. This is not something two boys who where currently pressed a wall in a dark alleyway with a loaded gun stuffed between them had. What they did have however, was each other, a leather jacket and a piece of motel stationary with an address scribbled on it. This was not the best survival kit in their situation, and they knew it.

The taller boy sighed and pulled his brother in closer, the nine year old's fluffy brown hair tickling his chin, all tousled from the mad dash out of the motel. They were Dean and Sam Winchester and had been running for a while now, Dean dragging Sammy by his skinny wrist through the streets of an unknown town. They would have run further and faster if it wasn't the middle of the night, Dean was pretty sure he'd pass out if he moved any more, the rush of adrenaline long gone.

"Dean?" Sammy said, rolling his head back to look at Dean's face.

"Mhmm..." Dean answered, feeling Sammy shift against him and blinking, looking down at his brother with tired eyes.

"Do you think Dad will be okay? Really, not just to make me feel better?" Sammy's face was sallow but earnest in the yellow light of the street lamps and Dean couldn't help but squeeze his arm and lie.

"I'm sure he'll be fine. When has a demon got the better of him?" He lifted himself off the wall and struggled out of the massive leather jacket his dad had forced on him before laying it across them, "He's given us a time to meet him, we've got Uncle Bobby's number 'case we get in trouble and there's no sign of that demon. Things are looking up."

"Dean," Sammy whined looking vaguely pained, "We're sleeping in an alley with no food... how the hell are things looking up?" Dean jabbed at Sammy's stomach to watch him squirm.

"Just be thankful it's summer, Samantha, or you delicate little sensibilities would be screwed. And don't swear."

"Dean, you swear all the time, most of what comes out of you mouth is utter filth. And _you're_ more of a girl than I am." Sammy sneered, kicking half- heartedly at the side of his brother's leg. Dean reached his hand around Sammy's shoulder and scrubbed his hair until it was sticking in several different directions while the smaller boy tried to beat his hands away. "Get off you fat jerk!"

"_Please_, I'm the height of fitness you scrawny little bitch." Dean gasped melodramatically and took his hands away from his brother's head before jamming them underneath his arms to dig into his ticklish armpits. "Take it back. Take it back and you can save yourself Sam! I could continue this all night if I wanted to, do you want that Sam? Huh? I can keep on tickling!"

Sammy shrieked possibly loud enough to convince anyone nearby he was being brutally murdered and twisted away out of Dean's grip, convulsing on the floor and trying to curl up into a ball.

"Sto- no- Jesus Dean! Okay- I'm- I'm sorry. M' sorry, alright? Now le' go of me!" Sammy was gasping for breath and lying on the concrete, the leather coat tangled between his skinny legs when Dean finally stopped, his face red from laughter.

"I told you an apology was all it took," he tutted before spreading his arms, "now c'mere, I want that jacket too." Dean couldn't care less about the jacket, actually, it was too warm have it the July night, all he wanted was to know that Sammy was not going bloody anywhere. His little brother screwed up his face.

"You'll just tickle me again." Dean looked insulted and made grabby- hands at the other boy.

"You think I'd really do that to you Sam? My favourite brother?"

"I'm your only bro-"

"Details, details Sam... now come on, I promise I won't tickle you again. When have I ever lied to you?" Sammy rolled his eyes and threw the leather coat at Dean's face before slumping against the wall next to him, inching closer towards his brother.

"Frequently and with great relish."

"Lies, all of it. Now go to sleep and stop using such fancy words. You're nine for god sake!"

"Dumb blonde." Sammy mumbled into his sleeve, smirking slightly at the squawk of outrage.

"That's discrimination you little brat, now go the hell to sleep and leave me in peace!"

xxx

It was about another half hour before his little brother's breathing slowed down and his eyes flickered shut against his shoulder but Dean still couldn't get to sleep. He wasn't sure if he even wanted too.

A demon they had been tracking through a couple of states now had got the better of them, trailing Dean's dad back to the motel room, only being noticed just in time. From there it was a blur of having and a little brother, an address of what appeared to be a church and his sawn-off shotgun shoved in his face and then told:

"Come to this church in a fortnight, if I'm not their by then, try and get to Bobby's. Shit, I've got no money on me, just find a way to feed yourselves. Take your brother outside as fast as you can! Don't look back! Now Dean, go!"

The fact that it wasn't the first time Dean had heard those words really made him consider reviewing his life choices as he bolted through the door and out into the warm, midsummer night.

He bought his hand to his chest to feel the little lump of the amulet Sammy had given him last Christmas and sniffed quietly, maybe history did repeat itself after all.

xxx

Dean woke with a start, the side of his face scraping against the breeze- blocks and his hand digging into Sammy's shirt. He must of drifted off, not remembering making any conscious effort to go to sleep the night before. He looked down at his still sleeping brother and grimaced at the patch of drool on his shirt.

"Sam, wake up" Dean mumbled, shaking his brothers shoulder. "We have to get up, find some food. Get off me you lump, I'm starving." Sammy buried himself further into Dean's shirt and refused to open his eyes. "Food, Sam! Don't do this to me!"

"I jus' wanna sleep."

"Fine, go hungry. See if I care." Dean frowned at the dark circles under Sammy's eyes and his unusually pale skin before saying softer this time. "Come on, I'll get you McDonalds, just get up then we can find somewhere comfier to sleep."

"Okay, 'kay... I'm up," the younger boy answered through a yawn, stretching his long arms above his head and almost whacking Dean in the face who dodged and then stumbled to his feet. He gazed over at the pile of stuff Sammy and him had grabbed on their escape and dug his hand into his pockets, pulling out their contents and lining across his palm. Dean's only money consisted of four pennies. He winced and scratched at his spiky hair, chanting curses under his breath.

So things weren't looking up.

Things were so far from looking up, in fact, that Dean wanted nothing more than to smash his face against the wall until he woke to the sight of a mildew patch on the ceiling of a garishly decorated motel room. Which was saying a lot.

"Dean?" Sammy thumped him in the arm, still slightly groggy from sleep, "You still in there?"

"Yeah, jus' thinking abou-"

"You do that?" Dean scowled at the smaller boy and shoved him gently away.

"Cheap shot Sam, I taught you better," Dean examined the scuffed tips of his trainers, "Listen about the whole McDonalds thing, not gonna happen I'm afraid."

His brother paused in cracking his joints and turned fully to face his brother, his forehead dimples creasing up.

"Dean... how much money do we actually have?" Dean often thought that Sammy was far too perceptive for his own good.

"Enough." No seven year old should have such a naturally condescending face, he swore when Sammy was sceptical enough he morphed into a forty-something teacher.

"_Dean. _How are we going to even eat?" Sammy looked a lot more alert now.

"We'll find a way, okay?" Dean snapped, grabbing the top of Sammy's arm and dragging him stumbling out onto the main road.

The town looked a lot different in daylight, the streaks of orange and pink sunrise peering over the tops of the shadowed buildings, a lot less menacing. It must only have been about five or six in the morning and the road seemed almost deserted, only a couple of shiny cars passing through, probably on their way to work. It was so different to the god damn scary darkness that had swamped the place the night before, when Dean was without Dad and a roof above his head. The sound of Sammy's voice snapped him out of his musings and forced him to turn away from the slowly encroaching sunrise to avoid the glare of his brother.

"I can't believe this... what next then? Rooting through bins or stealing? Your call since you're the boss round here now." Dean gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the sneer on his younger siblings face, tightening this hand around his arm and speeding up slightly.

To be honest Dean didn't really know what to do next; Sammy, though he hated to admit it, had a point.

"Jus' follow and keep quiet, you understand?" Something in the teenager's voice must have warned Sam slightly who just grunted and looked down at the scuffed tips of his trainers but the tension in his shoulders didn't leave.

xxx

The rest of the day was a blur. Dean had tried flirting with the waitress at the diner (who'd just ruffled his hair), Sam had bit his hand until his eyes started to water then wondered round asking for 'a bus fare home' and they'd both tried stealing from the local supermarkets. After five hours they had around one dollar and an apple, the apple was small and the money couldn't be spent in any of the shops they had been chased out of. So things weren't going well. Sammy's face was getting more and more crumpled by the second and Dean was quickly losing patience with everything and everyone.

"So what now?" Sammy asked, trailing along behind Dean as they weaved between the shoppers now filling the main road. Dean rubbed a hand through his sweat-damp hair and sighed, head bowed and shoulders slumped, before answering.

"We head to the suburbs, I suppose, lots of big houses with lots of food and, on a hot day like this, lots of back doors open."

"Do we have to, I mean there are families and stuff living there, isn't stealing from them kind of mean?"

"They look after their family and I'll look after mine, we have too many problems to start caring too much for the _normal_ people in their posh houses." Dean snapped over his shoulder, saying normal as if it was an insult.

The neighborhood they wandered towards was the kind of place housing companies put on billboards and soccer mums craved, neatly manicured gardens and oak porches replicated over and over. Perfect in every detail, right down to the little white picket fences. The two brothers were painfully out of place here, disheveled clothes and scrapes on their faces but most of the inhabitants were inside or to busy washing their sparkling Audis to notice them. They were currently walking towards a large mass of evergreen trees that hugged the walls of the houses on one side of the neighborhood figuring that climbing trees to get over more tricky backyard fences was the best way forward.

They finally reached the edge of the small wood and began to walk in toward where the tops of roofs peaked out from above the trees. This place was beautiful, Dean had secretly decided, all cracking twigs and dappled sunlight, it was a lot like their Uncle Bobby's place but more... untouched. No lumps of discarded and rusting cars that screamed home for the Winchesters but close enough for them to feel more comfortable than in a claustrophobic alley.

"Dean can we stop here? My feet..." Sammy was obviously in pain, too big boots dragging along the cracked earth probably swollen and heavy. Dean glanced around at the enclosed corpse of trees they had arrived at and sighed, this was as good a place as any he supposed.

"Yeah, I'm shattered." Sammy smiled for possibly the first time that day and collapsed backwards into the long grass, splaying his arms out wide then yelping when he hit a rock. Dean rolled his eyes with a small smirk and sat down with his back against a tree, toeing off his shoes then flexing his stiff feet. "I suppose we should get some food then?" he said lightly, hoping that Sammy's earlier reluctance had been crushed by hunger.

"Yeah, sure." Something in Sammy's face changed slightly then, eyes brightening in a way that made Dean crazily suspicious. "We should split up, makes it easier for us to run if things go wrong."

Dean hated it when Sammy said something logical.

"I'm not sure Sam... I don't want you getting hurt, or lost or arrested. Dad would kill me." Sammy's eyebrows furrowed but his voice still held that sweet persuasive tone that Dean dreaded .

"How 'bout if in fifteen minutes I'm not out you can kick down a door and save the day like you're _dying_ to do." Dean bit the inside of his cheek and nodded slowly, ignoring the jab, before shoving his arms through the massive sleeves of his Dad's jacket and chucking the shotgun at Sammy.

"Only if you take that." Sammy raised an eyebrow but didn't protest, standing up and starting to make his way in the direction of the houses. "In and out, you got that? No stopping, if you're not out in fifteen minutes-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know, you'll come in all guns blazing, mowing down a family just sitting down with Grandma for lunch." Sammy said to the empty space in front of him, not even bothering to slow down or look behind him. Dean grabbed his brothers shoulder and spun him around, looking him dead in the eye with a scowl on his face.

"I mean it Sam, just keep safe, okay?" Sammy's smile twitched and slowly shrunk before he wrapped his arms tightly around Deans waist for a split second, driving the air out of his brothers lungs.

"You take the house on the left you take the one on the right," he said as he drew away from his stunned brother with a smile and a wave, "I'll see you in fifteen minutes!"

**Guess whose house is broken into. I dare you. :D**


	3. Sorry

Chapter Three- Sorry

Sam ran a hand through his straggly hair, pushing the unlocked back door and freezing, listening for any movement or sound in the unlit house.

"Hello?" he said quietly, his voice cracking, "Is anyone in?"

There was no answer so Sam slid his head in through the doorway and hid the gun behind his back, pressing the side of his face to the warm wood. The room inside was cold even on the summer's day, grey flagstones and happy lemon yellow walls that seemed to clash, the buzz of the fridge the only noise Sam could hear. He edged in further and glanced around before toeing off his boots and positioning them so they would be easy to grab if a speedy escape was necessary, leaving only his dad's hiking socks to pad across the floor. He opened up a plastic supermarket bag and stuffed two apples inside from the big fruit bowl on the table, making sure the rustle of the bag was inaudible before moving over to the row of cupboards that lined the wall and slowly opening one to peer inside. Standing up onto his tip toes he fished out a couple of slices of bread from the cellophane packet, glancing behind him at the door on the other side of the the room all the while.

Sam had never liked stealing- or 'acquiring' as Dean so tastefully put it- but it was necessary, he supposed, and Dad always did it. Not that that was a ringing endorsement. He sighed and looked around the sparsely furnished room, fidgeting with the handles of the bag in his hands before he moved over to some of the cupboards underneath the sink and searched around for a container. He found a lidless bottle before shrugging and turning on the tap. The water thundered down and Sam hissed, cutting of the flow and spinning around to look at the door; he really should have planned this through more carefully, Dean was going to kill him. If the possible occupants of the house didn't club him over the head with a fire poker first.

When no one came storming down the stairs Sam slipped the water bottle in with the other supplies and stared longingly at the door... leading further into the house.

He really shouldn't go looking, It was a stupid idea. But he really did want a book to read, he'd read his dog eared and second hand copy of 'Peter Pan' about a billion times. This was the _perfect _opportunity.

Deciding that he had nothing to lose (apart from a clear criminal record) and too much to gain, he twisted the plastic bag securely around his wrist and crept towards the door, but not before shooting a guilty look at the fence he and Dean had scaled. The small corridor that he entered was bleak, the only decoration a small cross that was nailed to the wall and a few solemn looking photos of a large family. He grimaced and averted his his eyes, he really didn't need to see the people- the _religious_ people- he was... procuring from. He looked around at the carpeted stairs and started up them, careful to avoid the creaky and worn centre of each stair, eventually he came to another longer and thinner corridor with six doors that spread right down to the end. This typical layout made something drop in Sam's stomach, a weird kind of longing which made him equal parts sad and angry.

He was pretty sure no normal nine year old longed to be a home-owner, but he did anyway, he'd been in motels for as long as he could remember, jumping from town to town and school to school. He was fully aware that what his family did saved people and this constant moving was, in his Dad's words, 'just a sacrifice they'd have to make' but that didn't stop him from wanting. Sam ground his teeth and refocused on his mission, glancing through the small gap in the doorway into the first room on his left. Inside was a bed with brightly coloured, mussed up sheets that slotted into the corner of the messy room directly underneath a battered and torn poster of a bikini model that Dean would have salivated over. Sam doubted he'd find any of the books he wanted in their so spun around to the opposite door.

It was plain, unlike the decorated one behind him, and securely shut. Sam shrugged and twisted the door handle, pushing it open with his shoulder and hoping he'd have better luck in here. He was not disappointed. The room inside was spartan and bare, matching the rest of the house; the only furniture a tall wardrobe, a bed, a small table and (thank God) a massive bookcase. Sam stifled a happy gasp, dropping the bag of food at his feet and almost flying towards the stash of books, a face- splitting grin spreading across his dirty features.

Every single one of the books were in alphabetical order by author's surname, all in pristine condition, with colourful dust jackets and crisp pages. Sam was pretty sure he'd died and gone to heaven as he knelt with a thump onto the floor to inspect the books on the lowermost shelf, seeing titles he'd always seen in libraries and dreamt of reading. Sam sighed and slowly curled his fingers around the top of a book that looked interesting and pulled it out, flipping it around in his hands to feel the unmarked cover before-

"Excuse me?" Sam snapped his head around, only catching a glimpse of outstretched hands and big, blue eyes before his leg followed, hitting the speaker's bony shins. The person yelped and joined Sam on the floor in front of the bookshelf, falling directly onto Sam as the Winchester tried to scramble to his feet. It was only then, when Sam felt how light and fragile the body of his would- be assailant was, that he loosened the death grip from around their waist and looked carefully for the first time.

The boy must have been no more that Sam's age, with ruffled black hair and a face scrunched up from pain, his hands clamped over his ears. He was skinny (skinnier than Sam even) and his painfully formal clothes looked awkward on him, the cuffs of the shirt dirty and the pristine jeans slightly too baggy. Sam's throat tightened and he felt his breaths rip their way out of his gaping mouth, he'd just assaulted another kid, a _defenceless_ kid.

"Oh God, Jesus, I'm so sorry. Are you okay? Sorry, sorry, sorry. I didn't know you were here , I would- I shouldn't, Christ, are you okay? Don't call the police I just wanted to see your books, I shouldn't have and now you're hurt and- Please be okay, I didn't mean to." Sam gritted out, backing away slightly into a crouch and touching lightly at the other boy's tensed up shoulders.

Said boy's eyes flickered open and stared up at Sam, fingers still threaded through his dark hair and knees pulled up to his chest. But it wasn't in fear, more fascination. It was as if Sam was a new and exciting animal that had flounced into this boy's room and this stunned Sam, making him stop flapping his hands at the boy and stare back. They stayed like that for a couple of seconds, almost sizing each other up, before the other boy licked his lips and quietly cleared his throat.

"Don't blaspheme." Of all the things Sam thought were going to be said, that was not one of them.

"Erm, well, sorry? I think. I seriously didn't mean to kick you, I just didn't realise you were there. Please don't call the cops, my brother..." he trailed off and looked away from the boy's unnerving gaze and over too the discarded bag of food before shuffling over too it on his knees, pulling out the supplies quickly and lining them up on the floor.

"You were hungry." Sam jumped and looked back at the boy who was squinting at him with his head tilted slightly to one side and hesitated, not sure if the words were a statement or a question.

"Yes, I suppose, I mean-", the boy just continued to consider Sam with furrowed eyebrows so Sam continued in a hurry, "I'm sorry, I'll just give these all back and I'll go, I swear. I won't be back, jus' don't tell anyone. Not that I'd do anything if you did, just meant..."

The boy didn't look phased by Sam's accidental threat, quite the opposite in fact, his whole body relaxing slightly, his eyes sliding over the gun tucked into the back of Sam's trousers.

"Stealing is wrong." he said severely, but not at all angrily as Sam had expected (not that he knew what to expect from this strange boy).

"I know, I'm sorry-" The boy held up a hand that startled Sam into silence, the words his was about to speak catching in his throat, and the looked conflicted, shuffling up onto his knees to be level with Sam and angling his head down.

"That's okay."

"What?"

"I believe you." The other boy's head tilted even further to the left as Sam sat, slack jawed and staring. "You can keep the food. And the book, I suppose, as long as you give it back."

Sam was completely and utterly dumbfounded by the boy's unnecessary kindness. Not to mention amazingly suspicious. "So you _won't _call the cops?" he said sceptically.

"Not unless you want me to?"

"No. No, that's fine." Sam said quickly, unconsciously moving further into the room again and closer to the boy. For lack of anything else to do, Sam unthinkingly did the first thing that cam to mind and wiped his dirty hands against his even dirtier jeans before sticking it out in front of him. "My name's Sam."

It was probably not the cleverest idea to give you name (your _real_ name) to a person you'd just attacked, but the situation was far too surreal to be thinking straight and the other boy didn't seem to react. "Hello Samuel. My name is Castiel Novak." he said, grabbing Sam's hand before unnecessarily adding, " I live here."

Sam smiled uncertainly and found it hard not to laugh at 'Castiel's' weirdly endearing strangeness, especially when he continued to shake Sam's hand way longer than usually socially acceptable. "Are you okay, truly?"

"I will better soon." Castiel said with a nod of his head, his formal language seemingly awkward and difficult in his mouth.

"Good," Sam looked around the room in search of something to say, _should he just say thank you and leave?, _but then Castiel spoke for him, reaching out to the book that Sam had almost stolen.

"Have you read the Narnia books?" he said almost absently, another wild tangent being introduced into their conversation.

"Of course." Sam said, quickly edging closer to Castiel and feeling the familiar warmth that came with the rare pleasure of discussing books with someone as Castiel's eyes lit up. All of a sudden and with no warning, surprising a couple of rapid blinks and a short laugh out of Sam, Castiel then launched into a torrent of excited, happy speech.

"You'll love this then. The main character is just like Edmund- he's my favourite- and the twist at the end..." Sam was pretty sure he was speaking to a totally different boy to the one he was about thirty seconds ago and yet couldn't help but be sucked into the Castiel's enthusiasm.

"I love Edmund too, he's so misunderstood!" Sam was now in reaching distance of the other boy, whose bruises seemed to be entirely forgotten for the moment.

"Yes, exactly! I don't see why anyone could truly hate him..." Castiel looked over at his bookshelf and scrambled over to it, his back to Sam and _completely trusting, _grabbing a slim volume of 'The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe' and bringing it over to Sam before sitting down next to him so their shoulders were almost touching.

That's how Dean found them six minutes later, hunched over over the book and talking animatedly to each other about various fictional characters. It was, to say the least, a shock for the knife wielding, overprotective older brother that was Dean Winchester.

"What the fuck is happening here?" Two pairs of big, panicky, puppy-dog eyes turned on him in unison. Dean cursed loudly and colourfully.

**Sorry for the long wait and short chapter, exam season has started D: There will actually be some Dean and Cas interaction next chapter, this being a Destiel fic and all... **


	4. Help

**This is now on AO3 under the same name if people prefer that format :)**

Chapter Four- Help

Castiel was daydreaming, staring up at the torn spider web in the highest corner of his room and sitting in his usual place by the wardrobe when the boy with the gun crept into his room. He'd been left at home to finish the English homework Michael had set for him while the rest of the family were out on the monthly shop and was minding his own business. He didn't really know how to react when the tall boy walked straight past him, white knuckles around the handle of the gun and looking furtively over his shoulder every few seconds. This certainly didn't seem like a robbery, he must have been about the same age as Castiel with a chequered shirt to short for his arms and a dirt smeared face, the only thing that marked him out as different from any other boy was the seemingly loaded weapon in his clenched fist.

When Castiel had dropped his notepad on the floor next to him and then slid his feet underneath him, he hadn't really planned what to do next. He certainly hadn't planned to step out from his hiding place and confront the armed boy nor give him a book, put a name to the ruffled hair and dimpled smile or make his first friend. Things _were _rather faster and blurrier today.

After his ribs had stopped aching so much Castiel had found himself pressed shoulder to shoulder with Samuel and bent over a book, the other boy talking earnestly about his favourite moments and dancing his sack clad feet over the carpet in excitement. Castiel realized that he was smiling too, it was strange having someone who wouldn't tease him for liking books or ignore him.

The interruption came in the shape of a older boy with spiky, dirty blond hair and angry green eyes. Said boy said some words that Michael would probably try and exorcise him for then proceeded to threaten Castiel with a knife. Castiel decided he preferred Samuel.

"What the actual hell?" the boy spoke again, this time lowering his weapon as the book fell to the floor, quickly followed by Samuel's easy smile.

"Calm down Dean, this is Castiel-" Samuel was slowly angling his body towards the other boy, shielding Castiel from view.

"What do you mean calm down? It's been fifteen minutes and I come up here to see you snuggling with some nerdy dude I've never seen in my life, how am I supposed to calm down? And what kind of name is Castiel anyway?"

"I am named after the angel o-" Castiel said over the top of Samuel's shoulder, thinking now was the time to stick up for himself. The other boy just fixed his glare from Samuel to him and Castiel's quiet voice died in his throat.

"You know what, I don't even care! Grab the stuff Sam, we gotta be going now." The boy stepped forward and grabbed Samuel's wrist, dragging him bodily to his feet in a swift movement, not stopping when the brown haired boy stumbled slightly and resisted.

"Can I at least say goodbye?"

"To a kid you just robbed?" the two boys seemed to have the kind of staring competition Michael and Gabriel sometimes had during the scary, silent fights, before the blond one- Dean, Castiel thought- sighed. "Fine then Sam, say goodbye to angel boy and then we go." Castiel watched as Samuel turned back around to him, grumbling something and blushing slightly, sticking out a dirty hand for Castiel to presumably shake again.

Castiel then caught the way that Dean eyed the bag of food with longing and felt a thought roll around his head as Samuel tentatively picked up the book he a had chosen from the bookshelf.

"I want to help you."

"What?" Samuel said, his eyebrows furrowing. It was a good question, what, exactly, was Castiel offering? Whatever he did he'd be helping two people that had broken into Michael's house, people who were sinners, that had probably stolen from countless people.

"I can give you supplies." Apparently his mouth wasn't thinking so much into the situation. "I can't take any money, but my brother keeps some tarpaulin in the attic and there are some torches by the washing machine. They could help." Castiel looked at both of the boy's in turn, watching Dean's stony face as he fidgeted.

"That would be awesome Castiel, thanks." Samuel said just as Dean grabbed at his shoulder, tugging him further away from Castiel again.

"Sammy!" he hissed then looked sharply back at Castiel. "Family talk, now!"

The two of them stalked outside the room Dean shooting nasty looks at Castiel while Samuel looked apologetic. It wasn't like Castiel wanted to eavesdrop, but when their voices steadily rose from their forced whisper, he just couldn't help it.

"... we need as much help as we can get, look how far stealing from supermarkets has gotten us, do you want us to starve? Castiel is nice, he'll keep his word."

"Castiel is a religious freak-" Castiel felt a twinge in his chest but he shoved it down, Michael said not to heed the words of unfaithful people.

"Don't use that word!" Samuel shot back, followed by a small thump on the dry wall that separated them from Castiel.

"Jus' calm down, I didn't mean it like that, I just worry that he'll call the cops on us as soon as we're gone..."

"Does he look like he has a vengeful bone in his body? I don't think the thought had even occurred to him." And it hadn't, not until now, at least.

"You've known him for, what? Five minutes?"

"Oh, come on Dean, I know how much you love Dad's 'shoot first, ask questions later' thing, but don't be so paranoid all the time. Castiel is probably younger than me."

"And y'know what other lesson of Dad's I like? 'Keep Sammy safe'. Castiel is weird as hell- _it's true so don't give me that bitchface- _I have a reason to be suspicious." Castiel shuffled around on his bed a bit, trying to straighten the duvet and not say anything stupid again. He stood up with a jolt, not being able to sit still for much longer, and accidentally kicked the bed frame, making it rattle and knock against the wall. The two boy's argument stopped abruptly and in a few moments Samuel's head peered in through the partially closed door, his hair falling over his eyes.

"Erm," Castiel said, fumbling over the words, "My brother is going to be back soon with the others. So I would appreciate if you made you decision." Dean joined Samuel in the doorway, placing a hand on his shoulder and pulling him back slightly.

"I still say no." He said, but he sounded resigned and his jaw was clenching and unclenching repetitively.

"Then you're an idiot," Samuel said more gently this time, turning his back on Castiel to face Dean, his dirty fingernails digging into his denim jeans. "We got a chance at food and half decent shelter, we need to take it and be thankful."

There was a noticeable and terse silence in the room and Castiel felt like he was missing something large. Dean was the first to break eye contact and turned around, pulling the large leather jacket back up onto his shoulders.

"Okay then, Chuckles." Castiel watched as Samuel jabbed a sharp elbow into Dean's side then stepped forward, shoving him out of the way.

"This is my brother Dean, he's a total jerk so just ignore him, he hates accepting help, he's too macho for his own good." It was said with a forced smile and Castiel couldn't help thinking that this was his queue to laugh but he kept his mouth shut, afraid to shatter this delicate truce between the brothers.

"Shut up, Sam. I jus' like to be sure that no son of a bitch is going to get the better of us," Dean's eyes had a terrifying intensity, making him look about double his age, his back poker straight and suddenly much more imposing. Castiel felt the urge to kick him like Gabriel had taught him to do once, but thought better of it considering the knife still in the freckled boy's hand. "And that anyone that messes with Sammy will get their lungs ripped out."

Castiel watched as Samuel- or Sam, he supposed- ducked his head and blushed fiercely, looking mortified while Dean just tried to stare Castiel down with those green, angry eyes. If he didn't say anything now things would just go down hill, so, steeling himself and desperately trying not to think of Michael, he opened his mouth.

"I have no intention of 'messing you around', Dean. As for the threat, I very much doubt it, if you do not have any food or money, you definitely don't have the means to hide a body." Castiel cleared his throat and tried not to falter. "Now if you'd like to move out of the way so I can help you before my brother comes back, I would very much appreciate it. I doubt that he will be so forgiving of your trespass."

Dean stared, the stony look in his face melting away as he regarded Castiel as if he had only just noticed him, stepping forward so that he was level with his brother and tilting his head slightly. The tense moment hung in the air until Castiel was pretty sure he was going to be stabbed when Dean spoke again, his voice lacced with something like humour.

"Awesome, I'm glad we've got that straight. Lead the way Cas." He said, spreading out his arm and pushing his brother back into the chest of draws. Sam just rolled his eyes and muttered something about 'macho posturing', completely at ease with Deans violent mood swing.

Castiel felt like he had passed a test, he wasn't sure what the test was but Dean was looking at him in a different way, suddenly void of any hostility. Castiel decided that he was not going to look this gift horse in the mouth and nodded slowly still unsure about the spontaneous nickname.

"Okay then, I suppose," he muttered, feeling his eyebrows crease and his words stumble off his tongue. "I suppose you want the plastic sheet out, if you're going to sleep outside ?"

xxx

Castiel watched two figures struggle to pull a big, bright blue tarpaulin over the fence while juggling a book, two torches and a bad of food between them and sighed, sitting heavily down onto his bed and knitting his fingers together.

He had come to the conclusion that he was both insane and definitely not going to tell anyone what had just happened. Not that he was totally sure himself. From what he could gather, he'd made friends (though he was no expert on the matter) with two boys that were everything Michael despised and homeless. Not to mention possible juvenile delinquents.

Castiel stood up again sharply, too jumpy to sit still for too long, and paced stiffly around his room, picking at his fingernails. About a quarter of an hour later the tell- tale slam of Gabriel opening the front door (probably laden down with shopping) shook the window of Castiel's room, making him compulsively flatten down his shirt, take a shaky breath and head downstairs.

His family were crowded around the wooden table in the kitchen- the one that Sam and Dean had been at _so _recently- all systematically unpacking food and placing them in there designated cupboards and shelves. Castiel slotted into the little production line next to Anna, nodding at Michael in greeting and rolling his eyes at Gabriel trying to balance a tin of chopped tomatoes on his forehead.

This he could deal with.

Normal, everyday stuff. No one had to know about Sam and Dean, not Michael or Anna or Gabriel. No matter how many _looks_ Michael gave him, or how quiet Anna was or how good Gabriel was at sniffing out a lie.

"Castiel?" he dropped the pack of bananas he was holding as he heard Michael say his name impatiently, snapping out of his reverie.

"Yes?" He said almost reflexively, jumping to peer round Anna at his elder brother.

"I am going take Anna into the living room to do her vocal exercises." Michael flicked his hand in the direction of his other brother and walked out of the room, Anna trailing behind him. "Finish up here and make sure Gabriel doesn't do anything stupid."

Castiel paused and then nodded stiffly, staring down at the wood grain in the table, the force of the thought that had just floated at the edges of his mind almost winding him.

"Hey, what's with the scrunched up face, bro'? Are you okay?" he was vaguely aware of Gabriel asking him a few moments later. He nodded a 'yes', his vision swirling slightly.

But things were not okay, definitely not okay, and he wasn't sure if it was because of meeting the Winchesters or something totally different, but for the first time Castiel realized that Michael talked as if Anna wasn't there and as if Gabriel was no longer his brother. And for the first time, he realized that he really didn't like it.

**Thank you so much for all the amazing follows and favourites, especially the elusive anonymous reviewer who deserves a hug :)x**


	5. Gabriel

**Thanks for all the support, y'all really awesome :) x**

Chapter Five- Gabriel

Dean knelt on the hard ground and started to push at the roll of blue tarpaulin with a grunt, scowling as he watched Sammy sit on a rock, flashing the torch on and off repeatedly as the woods around him slowly darkened.

"Cut it out, Sam." Sam swung the torch round and directly into Dean's eyes, flicking the button until all Dean could see were spots.

"What was that?" Sam said as a small, infuriating smirk stretched his mouth. Dean sat back and stared at this brother, pausing to stop pushing the plastic sheet and flex his sore shoulders.

"Are you deaf as well as annoying? Keep the light on... or off. Simple."

"Huh, I didn't quite catch that?" Sam said, sliding with a thump onto the ground and edging closer on his knees, torch still shining on Dean's face. Dean looked down at his hands with a scowl, listening to his brother's movements as he stopped within arm's reach. When the smaller boy got close enough he launched himself snarling over the bunched- up plastic. Sammy's laugh was cut short as Dean tackled him, making sure to land on the soft grass.

"You stop that or I'll brain you with that bloody thing." Dean said seriously, his jaw tense with the effort of not smiling.

"I'd like to see you try!" Sam screeched, wriggling desperately and bringing his hands up to push at Dean's face.

"That sounds like a challenge, Sammy. A challenge a may hold you to." Dean said, rolling off his brother with a parting cuff round he head, making sure to dig his elbows under Sammy's ribs. "Right after I get some sleep..."

Sammy scrambled up after Dean, helping him kick the tarpaulin flat and spread out any crinkles. "So do we make it into a shelter or sleep on it?" Sam said, gasping slightly as he dusted off his hands. Dean looked up through the trees at the clear night sky and rubbed his hands over his face, trying to blink away the tiredness for just a while longer.

"I don't think it's gonna rain tonight, Sammy, I can't be stuffed to hang it up anyway, we'll be fine sleepin' on it." Sam shrugged and started tugging off his sweater, bunching it up as a pillow and rolling away a stone underneath their makeshift bed. Dean yawned and settled down on the other side of it, draping his dad's jacket over himself as a blanket.

"Dean?" Sammy's voice was muffled and uncertain and was the only thing that kept Dean from rolling over and pretending to be asleep.

"Mhmm...?" Dean heard the rustle of the plastic underneath him as Sam slid closer on his knees, thin arms wrapped around his waist.

"I want Dad back." The words were rushed and seemed to stumble out of his little brother's mouth, but there was no mistaking them. Dean sat up sharply, wanting to know if this was just a dream, and reached out to grab Sammy's shirt and pull the smaller boy into a one- armed hug.

"Don't worry Sammy, jus' thirteen more days, okay? Then we'll have Dad back, and the Impala and everything else. We've got the address for that church haven't we? He'll find us." Sammy burrowed his face into Dean's shirt for the first time in years and nodded slightly. "Tell you what, we'll go see Cas tomorrow and see if he can't tell us where we need to go."

Sam looked up then, his eyes slightly red from almost crying but shining with something like happiness. "Really?" Dean nodded quickly. "I thought you didn't like him?"

Dean licked his dry lips and sighed before answering, pulling back slightly to look into Sammy's face. "Yeah, well, he's okay I suppose. And you like him enough, with his books and eyes and stuff." Sammy turned fully to Dean and squinted, turning his head to the side. It was only then that Dean realized that was the gayest thing he had ever said ever.  
"Never mind, all I mean is that if you like him, he's cool, okay?"

Sam nodded absently, tugging the side of the jacket over his shoulders and lying down next to Dean, curling slightly into him. Dean slumped down next to him, every bit of tiredness suddenly gone. Well it certainly wasn't his fault that Cas had really feminine, blue eyes.

xxx

Dean woke to an apple hitting him forcefully in the stomach, last night's slip of the tongue barely even a blurry memory. Sam was crouched a little distance away and rustling through the bag of supplies with a small smile on his face, humming an indistinct tune and looking the exact opposite of how he did just a couple of hours ago. Dean grunted hello and stuck the piece of fruit into his mouth, holding it between his teeth as he stretched his arms, his back clicking loudly.

"Morning." Sam said through a mouthful of food, his hair ruffled and messy. "I was thinking we could set up the shelter then head down to Cas' to ask about the..."

"Address, right." Dean said, getting stiffly to his feet. "How we gonna do that? He might not be at home alone this time, what are we going to do then? You could probably eat of their floor they're so clean, not to mention all the religious crap, with us looking like this they'll probably slam the door in our faces."

"We could say we were inviting him round to hang out or something." Sammy said quietly, scowling now.

"What are you? Four? You wanna invite Cas to play?" Dean immediately felt guilty at the angry flush that covered Sammy's face and sighed. "Fine then Samantha, but you do the talking, a thirteen year old asking someone out to play is just creepy."

xxx

By the time they found the right house, a rather large amount of time had passed, filled with quite a couple of confused neighbours and one close encounter with a pissed off dog. Dean was beginning to wonder why he'd ever agree to see Sam's weird new friend at all when they'd found a likely looking house.  
"I think this is it." Sammy said, staring at the ornate knocker as if it was going to attack him and compulsively flattening down his unruly hair.

"Your call Sammy, we can go back and have a morning nap or you knock on the door and see what happens." Dean felt the urge to drag his little brother physically away from the imposing house but Sammy's face turned from scared to stubborn in a split second. Sam fiddled with the latch on the gate and swung it open, the well- oiled hinges making eerily little sound in the quiet, suburban street. Dean stood close behind him, tugging on his shirt to hide the gun that was tucked into the waistband of his jeans and nudged the smaller boy onwards, looking around anxiously for any suspicious neighbours.

So Dean was being paranoid. Who cold blame him? Here he was with a scruffy younger brother and slightly torn thrift shop clothes, while the cobbled driveways shined as if polished and the meticulously mown gardens stood out a bright green on the drought- parched land. It made Dean uneasy, the plastic sheen to everything, as if he were surrounded by life-size doll houses with Barbie and Kens living inside. He didn't fit here. He belonged at Bobby's or in motel rooms with Sammy and his Dad where he could feel safe among the miscellaneous stains and mildew.

"Dean?" Sam's voice broke through his bitter thoughts and Dean looked up at his younger sibling's worried face with a smile, joining him on the top step of Cas' porch. "So I should just knock then?"

"Your plan Sammy." Dean said with a shrug. He wasn't sure why he was giving Sammy so much choice, Dad would have thrown him in the car and driven off. He supposed it would help Sammy get used to things not going his way- get used to having no friends- a treacherous voice muttered in his head. Sammy shot a weird kind of look at Dean which he couldn't decipher and raised his fist to the door, his other hand fidgeting with the ripped cuff of his shirt.

Sammy was just about to knock a second time when the door swung suddenly open, making Sammy stumble and almost fall onto the short figure in the doorway. Dean jolted in shock at the sudden appearance, tensing slightly and ready for a fight, though, truth be told, he didn't think he was going to get one.

The teenager standing before him was slumped slightly to one side, managing to look down at the Winchesters while being rather on the short side. He wore an easy, slightly bemused smile that curled around the lollipop that hung from his mouth, his sharp features making Dean want to defend himself against an insult that hadn't been said.

So this wasn't Cas.

"And what can I do for you then?" the guy said in a way that made Dean want to start a fight for no apparent reason.

"We're, erm, here to see Castiel?" Sam said nervously, refusing to make eye contact with the taller guy. "Is this the right house?"

"Depends whose asking..." the teenager drawled, sounding like a cheap gangster movie.

"We're his friends." Dean interrupted, positioning himself in front of Sammy.

"I didn't realize my lil' bro had any friends." he said bluntly, biting down hard on the lollipop so it cracked in his mouth, making Sammy jump slightly. He took the stick out of his mouth, flicking it to the side of him before stretching out a hand for Dean to shake. "Name's Gabriel. Gabriel Novak. Now how the hell do you know Castiel?"

"We well, well we, just-" Sammy muttered, the cogs in his brain working overtime for a suitable lie

"You got a stutter?" Gabriel didn't give Sam a chance to answer. "Don't worry, my overpowering charm and good looks is stunning to mere mortals like yourselves." The dickhead then ruffled Sammy's hair and Dean almost swear to god growled . Related to Sam's friend or not, he was a douche.

"So is Cas here or not?" he snapped. Gabriel looked searchingly at him before shaking his head slowly, pushing himself off the door frame and pushing himself up taller.

"Nah, it's just me and my little sister at the mo'." Gabriel's whole demeanour seemed to change then, moulding into something more stern and Cas- like. "Listen, you go back to your parents or guardians or whatever. It's not safe to be out on your own."

"Why?" Dean said incredulously, feeling the loaded gun press against his hip. Gabriel looked between the two boys on his doorstep and frowned, smug smile completely gone.

"Nutcase is going round stealing children." Gabriel said seriously, rubbing his covered wrists in a nervous twitch. "Creepy perv probably. You seem like nice kids, but I gotta keep Castiel safe, y'know?" Dean did know even if he resented being called a nice kid.

"Can you at least tell Castiel we were here? I have his book." Sam said quietly peering around Dean's shoulder.

"Sure thing, just as long as you get home." The two Winchester's nodded, moving backwards of the porch with a muttered 'thanks' and a stilted wave. "Oh, and another thing." Sam stopped and turned around, making Dean bump into him.

"What?" Gabriel looked uncomfortable suddenly, his hand clearly itching to shut the door on them.

"I'm not usually one to drive people off but... Michael- that's our brother- likes us keeping ourselves to ourselves, 'specially with Castiel. Don't get me wrong, it's nice him having friends and all but I don't want him hurt. Hell, I don't want you hurt." Gabriel grinned again, though it looked painfully forced. "Unless being skinned alive and put on the mantle piece for messing with our little bro is your thing, that is."

"Er, thanks, I think." Dean said, stunned by this guy's crazy mood swings. Cas' family were clinically insane. Sam was silent, moving towards the gate again, a worried twisted expression on his face that made Dean feel sick and overly protective.

xxx

Camp Winchester (as christened by Dean) was awkwardly quiet later in the day, Sam only having grunted 'yes' and 'no' a couple of times since they had arrived back, not having moved from his spot by the big oak. Dean watched from a distance as Sammy looked up slightly, his hair falling in front of eyes.

"You think Dad is hunting the thing that's taking the kids? Is it that demon from the motel?" He said quietly, surprising Dean out of a daydream. Sammy hated talking about Dad's hunts, especially at times like these.

"Probably. Seems suspicious enough." Dean said lightly, trying to raise the mood in the little clearing.

"So this is the worst possible time to be separated from Dad?" Dean nodded slightly, more of a twitch than anything, conceding that being without a parent while a child- snatcher roamed around was pretty shitty, even by Winchester standards.

"Sammy, what's wrong? I know it's not just the kidnap stuff, we've gone through worse." His little brother glanced up then, eyes wide and imploring.

"I'm just worried about Cas." Dean was about to tell his brother that he got attached to people way too quickly but curiosity soon got the better of him, making him edge closer to Sam.

"What d'you mean?" Sam tensed up and fidgeted slightly, hand compulsively stroking at his too- long hair.

"His brother Michael seems... strict, I suppose." Sammy was definitely hinting at something that Dean liked avoiding the topic of completely. He stood up, almost tripping over his dead leg and wincing at the resulting pins and needles and throw the water bottle, forcing him to look up.

"I think you're over thinking Sammy." his brother scowled a him over the water and Dean backtracked fiercely. "Oh, that's not what I mean... we'll ask him about it when we next see him."

"Tomorrow?" Sam said, a stubborn look on his young face.

"Fine then! Whatever you want..."

**Special mention to the lovely the two lovely reviewers: Supreme Outcast and Alley of the Labrinth 3**


	6. Bruised

Chapter Six- Bruised

Castiel rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, stretching his legs so that his toes touched the cold metal bars at the end of the bed and yawned quietly, his jaw clicking. He had had vague anxious dreams about Winchesters and drowning, the memories of the break-in two days before still fresh in his mind. It all seemed a bit surreal now, he was worrying about the two brothers more than he did himself. It was unhealthy, but he just couldn't stop. He wanted to know if Sam had liked the book and if Dean really did like him and if they had enough food and shelter. He looked down at the thin duvet that was wrapped around his legs, pushed away in the early evening when the room became unbearably hot . At least they wouldn't be too cold. Castiel shook his head as if to dislodge the thoughts of the two boys that hung like cobwebs in his mind, he had other things to worry about. _Sam and Dean were strangers_. He prodded his ribs, which were going a purplish colour he was more familiar seeing on Gabriel, they were _violent strangers._

Castiel kicked his way out of the rumpled sheets and stretched again, running his fingers on the wall behind him and twisting his back. He reached down and grabbed his discarded pyjama top and exchanged it for a shirt and some jeans, stuffing his limps inside the clothing at top speed. He could smell breakfast being cooked downstairs, the bitter tinge of burnt toast meaning that it was Anna's turn today. Castiel wrinkled his nose slightly at the thought, his tongue feeling itchy at the thought of Anna's cooking. His sister could do many things better than most, but cooking was not one of them.

He glanced at the mirror on the way out of his room, cringing at the state of his hair and the bags under his eyes, immediately feeling guilty about about staying up late and flicking through his notebook. He needed to get to sleep earlier if he really wanted to be the least bit productive. Shrugging again, he stepped onto the landing and rolled his eyes at the still closed door to Gabriel's room. His brother could sleep for hours.

A couple of minutes later, when the kitchen was silent but for the sound of Castiel scrapping the burnt bits of the toast, Michael appeared at the door, Gabriel trailing along behind him.

"Chores today." Michael said quietly, eyeing the black crumbs that had fallen onto the table and pulling out a chair to sit on. Castiel nodded vaguely as Gabriel grumbled under his breath and waited to be told what was needed to be done around the house. "I was thinking that me and Anna could cover the top floor while you two take care of downstairs, is that agreeable?"

Castiel frowned and started to spread the butter on the toast, while Anna rescued some over- cooked scrambled eggs from the stove, and wondered whether him being 'opposed to the idea' would influence Michael's decisions in the slightest. He was conscious of Gabriel's small grunt of approval as the older boy rummaged under the sink for the boxes of cereal as he placed the neat stack of buttered toast in the centre of the table.

After a prayer, breakfast continued in the same way most meals in the household did, Michael burying himself in a book or newspaper, Gabriel scarfing down the food, Anna sitting in fidgety silence and Castiel off in his own world. When everything was finished, Michael stood up and flicked his hand at Anna to do the same before nodding his head at his two brothers and heading out the door. Castiel started to pile up the plates as Gabriel lounged in his chair, still in his pyjamas and picking food out of his teeth, and wondered whether of not to ask the brown haired boy for help. Fortunately, Gabriel soon stood up and walked over to join Castiel in watching the sink fill with luke warm soapy water and shoved some cutlery under the tap, spraying the two boys with water. His brother swore and tried shaking the droplets of water of his shirt before turning to Castiel with a quick apologetic look. Castiel didn't acknowledge him through, ignoring his damp shirt in favour of watching the leftover food float to the surface of the swirling water.

"You're friends came over yesterday while you and Michael were out." Gabriel said suddenly, a forced ease to his voice that was betrayed by the fact that he was studying the side of Castiel's face intently for a reaction. The smaller boy froze while shutting off the tap, his hand pausing and resting on the metal, not sure how to answer the strange statement.

"Which friends?" Castiel said carefully, trying to hide his hesitation by continuing on with his chore with steady hands.

"Oh y'know the ones. Both obnoxiously tall and scruffy, one with floppy brown hair and the other with an attitude problem?" Castiel closed his eyes and huffed, making a mental note to tell the two brothers they needed to be a lot more conspicuous if they had a chance of having any future help from him.

"What did they say?" Castiel said shortly, his breath catching slightly at the implications of Gabriel somehow finding out about Sam and Dean.

"Aw, nothing much, something 'bout a book. I said I'd tell you they'd been."

"Oh." Castiel said, shocked and relieved at not having to panic. The Winchesters were stupid to turn up at his house with their ripped chequered shirts and dirty faces but at least they could keep their mouths shut. "Thank you."

"You're welcome bro." Gabriel ruffled Castiel's already messy hair, inadvertently covering in washing- up liquid and making the younger boy scowl at the sponge in his hands.

"So... two whole friends, what are their names?"

"I've had friends before, Gabriel," Castiel muttered, resenting the teasing tone in his brother's voice. "And it's none of you're business what they're called."

His brother laughed ibefore chucking the damp tea towel on the top of Castiel's head and jabbing him in the ribs. This, Castiel presumed, was an attempt to make him laugh though instead it made him flinch back and suck in his stomach, his bruised sides from Sam's attack aching. The two boys looked at each other, Gabriel's face still frozen in a smile that was slowly fading and the only sound in the room the muffled footsteps from upstairs.

"Castiel?" Gabriel said quietly and, Castiel thought, _dangerously._

"What?" He replied, hoping that feigning ignorance was the best way forward. It wasn't. Gabriel grabbed the top of Castiel's arm and pulled him roughly round to face him, his eyes wide and panicky, inches away from the smaller boy's own.

"You know you can tell me anything Castiel? Anything at all." There was a pause that seemed to stretch for an age. "Well? Answer me, do you know you can talk to me or not?" Castiel shook his head desperately, frightened of his brother's intensity, but it didn't seem to be enough. Gabriel moved his hands to Castiel's face, griping his jaw and forcing him to make eye contact, his face suddenly less scared and more angry.

"Gabriel, I'm fine-"

"No Cassie, you're not!" he said, reverting back to Father's old nickname for Castiel, his voice a forced quiet so not to disrupt the rest of the family. "Who did this?

"No one!" Castiel hissed, trying to pull back. Gabriel pushed him away suddenly, spinning around and storming to the other side of the room, his fists clenching and ready to punch the stone wall in front of him.

"It was Michael wasn't it?" Castiel wasn't given a chance to protest and Gabriel barrelled on into his rant, his face becoming flushed with anger. "I swear to god I'll kill him for this, he's gone to bloody fucking far! Next it will be Anna for fucks sake, _I'll skin him-_"

"Gabriel!" Castiel shouted this time, scared and confused and beyond the point of caring if anyone heard them. "I fell out of a tree while everyone was out shopping. I didn't want to say because I know I'm not allowed."

Gabriel stood stock still before noticeably deflating, his face falling and his legs giving out, slumping back down onto the nearby chair. "Okay. A tree, right." He said, looking at the palms of his open hands, the red crescents from where he'd dug his fingernails in already fading. "Jesus. Listen, if I ever freak out on you or scare you again please knee me in the balls."

Castiel gave a weak little laugh, his breathing still heavy from the shock. "Yes. Sure. I'll remember."

"I really am sorry, it's just that I can't see you hurt. Falling out of a tree? You need to be more careful you clumsy dick. You frightened me half to death." Castiel felt guilty and sick and very, very tired all of a sudden, making him sit down in the chair next to his brother, their shoulders a hairsbreadth apart.

"I will, I promise." Castiel looked at Gabriel's hands twitching over his wrists to his own, an oppressive awkwardness suddenly pressing down on the two brothers. "Michael wouldn't hurt me."

"I know." A bitter smile twisted his lips, his voice quiet and sad. "But you wouldn't tell me if he did."

It wasn't a question, just a statement that hung in the air between the two boys. And Castiel couldn't deny it. As much as he wanted to,the idea a situation in which he would choose his rebellious, funny, pretentious older brother over _Michael _was laughable, and everyone knew it.

"I'm sorry." He said instead, staring at the patterned tiles of the kitchen floor, his eyes squinting against the harsh morning sunlight that filtered through the window.

"Tha's all right. Of course you wouldn't. Stupid of me." A painful lump sat in Castiel's throat as his brother stood jerkily to his feet, his fingers still digging into his covered arms where the bruises must still be hidden. Castiel flinched as the other boy's face changed suddenly, the pained expression vanishing to be replaced with a smile that showed too many teeth. "Right then, you sort the dishes and I'll got get the lemon stuff for the windows before someone catches us slacking."

xxx

That night, Castiel lay on his bed trying to get to sleep, memories of the day flickering in front of his closed eyes and keeping him awake. His curtains and window were still open but he was too tired to get up and close them, even if he was going to regret it when the night reached its coldest. It had been about an hour since he'd said goodnight to his family but still sleep eluded him, instead leaving him sprawled on top of his duvet with his pyjamas riding uncomfortably up his calves. He sighed and propped himself up onto his shoulders to flip over his pillow, turn to face his room and press his feet against the cold wall behind him.

It was then that a sizeable rock flew through his window and skittered across the wooden floorboards, making Castiel jump and swing his legs around, tense and ready for another possible break in. He shuffled further off his bed so that his toes grazed the floor, bending forward to try and see out the window without putting himself in any immediate danger. He heard a hissed conversation as he crept forward, keeping the window to his right, and decided to have a look instead of calling Gabriel straight away. He crouched in front of the window sill, the blunted plastic edge digging into the bridge of his nose.

All he could see in the semi- darkness was a mop of brown hair and two bright green eyes. He should have guessed.

**Sorry for the massive wait, far too many exams right now. Thanks for the continued support :D**

**Reviews are always welcome *hint hint* :) x**


	7. Rom-Com

**Sorry again for the wait, updates should come thick and fast now it's holidays where I am.**

Chapter 7- Rom-Com

"Can we go _now?_" Sammy was hacking at the earth with a stick, making little groves and cracks on the hard surface while scowling straight down. He'd been bugging him all day about visiting Cas and Dean was beginning to think he was going to have to whack his brother over the head with a rock to get him to shut the hell up. Sam just needed to chill out, his new friend would be fine just a while longer and they had twelve days left to figure out the address.

"Yeah, one second..." Dean mumbled, string jammed between his teeth as he tried hanging the torch on a branch that hung above their camp.

"But I'm bored and you said we could go when it got dark." Sam whined, chucking down the stick to look at his brother in the dwindling light. Dean let the light drop from his closed mouth and unsteady fingertips to swing down from the tree and pull down his shirt.

"Have it your way, bitch." Dean said, resigning himself to the fact that he was always going to have to follow his kid brother around. And that he didn't mind seeing the Cas kid again. Not that he'd admit it. Ever.

"Thank you." Sam huffed. The smaller boy picked himself up onto his feet and dusted himself off (not that it helped much) before moving hesitantly over the twisted roots and animal holes to where the torch had landed.

"You're very welcome, Samantha. Now quit your complaining and hurry up, I want some sleep." Dean said, blinking at the sudden brightness in the clearing, his eyes aching.

xxx

"Dude, seriously?" Sammy looked at him pointedly. "I'm not throwing fucking stones at another guys window. This isn't a bloody rom-com."

"_Dean._ Have you got any other ideas?" The two boys had stumbled through the unfamiliar wood and scaled the flimsy fence, the sky slowly turning a deep blue through the grey clouds. Now they found themselves looking up at the dim silhouette of Cas' window.

"He's probably sleeping anyway." Dean hissed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. Sam fumbled on the floor for a stone and offered it to Dean, a stubborn look on his face just visible in the torchlight.

"You've got a better aim than me."

"Still not waking the poor kid up." Sam growled something under his breath. "God, what kind of person wakes someone up like this? Call yourself a friend-" Sammy chucked the pebble at him, the small stone bouncing noiselessly off his chest and back on the ground.

"Just do it, Dean." Sam wheedled as Dean stretched the collar of his shirt to get a good look at where he'd been hit.

"Jeez, Sammy, calm it. I'll re- enact your romantic fantasy, whatever you want." Dean picked up a good sized stone and stretched his arm back, releasing the projectile while simultaneously realising that Cas' window was wide open.

"What was that Dean?" Sammy hissed, turning on his older brother.

"It was your idea! Don't blame me..." Dean looked up at the window, swinging the torch round just in time to see a few tufts of hair peak up from the window sill.

"That's Castiel, it's him!" Sammy said hurriedly, dropping quickly to the floor again to dig out another pebble with his too long fingernails. "Throw another!"

"Jeez, I don't want to give the kid concussion, he probably thinks he's being robbed already, no need to injure him."

"Just one mo-" Sam's flow of whining speech stopped abruptly as something hard struck his arm and he squealed, causing both boys to spin round to face the house again. Castiel's small frame was hanging precariously out of his window with his thin arms waving madly above his head, his pyjama shirt flapping in the faint breeze and a big smile (visible even from the ground) on his face.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Dean half shouted, feeling sick just watching Cas bend further out of the window to hear him. Dean rubbed the side of his face as he tried gesturing for him to get the hell inside so he wouldn't plummet to his death.

"Castiel, come down!" Sammy said, oblivious to the fact that his brother was nearing an aneurysm and that his voice was way too loud. The black haired boy nodded once and disappeared from view, the curtains still blowing through the open window. Sam spun around with a smug grin on his young face, "I told you he would be awake."

"Oh, shut your face bitch..." Dean grumbled shoving his brother's shoulder so that the smaller boy stumbled and swayed dangerously to the side. "_I'm _the one who shouldn't be awake, I need some sleep." Sam opened his mouth to say some other annoying, cutting comment but stopped abruptly, completely and suddenly blanking Dean and staring at the slowly opening door. The hinges creaked slightly in the silence and the painted wood was pushed away to reveal two blue eyes and the toe of a worn slipper.

"Castiel!" Sammy yelped and darted towards his new friend, the torch swinging in his hand and leaving Dean in semi- darkness. "The book is amazing, I can't believe I've never read it before!" Sammy babbled and Dean scoffed internally. _Worried about Cas? More like wants to talk about books for another age._

"It's one of my favourites." Cas said quietly, seemingly startled at Sam's enthusiastic greeting and darting quick looks over the other boy's shoulder at Dean. "Thank you for coming."

"That's fine, we wanted to come..." Sammy said, frowning. "Sorry about the stone, we didn't mean to scare you." Castiel smiled again at this, his hands fidgeting with the seam in the side of his pyjamas.

"That's okay, sorry for throwing it back." Cas sighed deeply, his thin body seeming to deflate and his features relax. "I'm just glad you're here tonight."

"You better be." Dean snapped, reaching awkwardly to gently cuff the other boy round the head to avoid the looming sadness. "Sammy wouldn't stop bugging me to come see you with him." Cas looked stricken for a second before he looked over at Sam, who was trying to hide a smile under a scowl, and blushed.

"Sorry." Cas said quickly, watching out of the corner of his eye as Sam sidled closer to him, offering the book back.

"Aw, quit apologising, dude." Dean said, feeling kind of guilty for scaring the small kid. "I don't mind staying up late, it's just it's past little Sammy's bedtime I'm worried about, he gets so grouchy when he's tired."

"_Dean."_ Sam whined, bating away his elder brother's hands that were trying to squeeze his cheeks. The look on Cas' face made Dean laugh again, his expression equal parts bemused and stricken, as of not sure if they were joking or not. Sam squirmed away before hastily changing the subject away from a topic that was uncomfortably close to embarrassing baby stories. "We need to ask about an address."

Dean blinked and looked away from Cas, smirking still at the faint flush of pink that covered his cheekbones, before digging a hand is pocket. Feeling around the pennies, his fingers found the neatly folded piece of motel room paper and tugged it out, unfolding it so it lay flat on his palm. He still wasn't quite sure of this; Cas, no matter how cute and innocent looking, was still a stranger and Dean knew for whatever reason that the address was important. Dad had always warned against trusting a civvy... Cas could easily be possessed, he supposed. Before he could think any more on the matter, Sam plucked the scrap out of his hand and shoved it at his friend, a bright puppy- eyed look on his face. Cas startled slightly at the sudden movement but took the address readily enough, squinting at it before Sam positioned the torch properly.

"I know where this is." He said slowly, as if working the words out as he said them. His head was turned to the side, his posture soft and relaxed but his eyes narrowed and uncharacteristically suspicious. Dean and Sam exchanged a quietly anxious look over Cas' hunched shoulders. "But you need to tell me why you need it before I tell you, if that's okay..."

This set off alarm bells in Dean's head and he took a jolting step backwards, hand trying to reach inconspicuously to the gun tucked into the belt loop of his trousers. Sam shot a scathing look at him and stepped in front to look Cas in the eye, shielding the tense Dean from view.

"We didn't tell you because we didn't worry you. Our Dad's investigating the disappearances around here..." the words flew off Sam's tongue easily, making Dean relax a fraction. Of course Sammy would know how to deal with this, he was good with people, always had been.

"So why do you need the address then, what are you going to do there?" Cas' stony expression had crumbled a bit, his tone strained with worry and a small amount of guilt.

"We just need to meet our Dad there when he's sorted everything out, the guy he thinks is doing it found where we where staying and things got nasty." Cas bristled unexpectedly at these words, his big eyes flitting from the two boys, his fists clenching slightly around the paper, making Dean wince.

"So you've bought danger?"

"What? No-" Sammy said fiercely, backtracking as best he could. Dean lifted a hand and placed it on his brother's arm, pulling him back so that he could bend down a bit to keep eye contact close up to the shorter Cas.

"It's fine Cas. Seriously. Our dad lead him away from here, we just really need to know where the is address is. So we can keep him safe." The boy looked down at his hands now, his face twisting up into a weird, conflicted expression that Dean had no time to analyse before it straightened out.

"So your Father's a police officer?" Cas whispered, almost inaudibly.

"Kind of, more part of a private company than anything." Dean said, suddenly aware that he had not been this sorry about lying to someone about the family business since Sam. He swallowed the painful lump in his throat and looked down again, hoping to suss out what Cas was thinking underneath those blank eyes.

"And, this address, it will keep him safe? Like safe not... dead?" Castiel's lilting voice broke dangerously at the last word but his vacant expression didn't change an inch, continuing to stare at his still fingers.

"Yes." Sam cut in quickly before Dean could chicken out because Jesus, if the kid in front of him didn't look beyond broken. Cas' face set into something that was nearing stubborn and he looked up, pulling the paper out flat.

"It's my church, on the outskirts of town. Follow the main road to the last turning then... left, you should see it by then." Dean committed the sketchy directions to memory then flicked his eyes up to the short boy that was biting his chapped lips. He didn't want to think about why Cas was so easily swayed my the thought of a dead dad, it made him feel mildly ill.

"Thank you Castiel, seriously you're the best." Sammy said, his voice still hushed by the weird atmosphere. Dean hummed in agreement and tugged the collar of Cas' pyjama shirt up from were it had slipped off his shoulder, the soft cotton threadbare and warmed by the night air and the other boy's skin. It was only then that he realised that Cas' small frame was shaking slightly, small tremors running up his body.

"Jeez Cas, you should have mentioned that you were cold..." Dean said, worry creeping into his voice as the boy tore himself away from his light grip and shook himself forcefully.

"I'm not cold. Just..." his eyes peeked up form beneath a tousled fringe. "Stressed and relieved you're here because today has been tricky and you're really really nice and everything." Dean blinked at the rushed speech, smiling despite the anxiety still eating at him from Sam's earlier speculations on the elder Novak.

"That's fine, we have to do this again, I so want to talk about the book some more. You were right about that twist, I'm not sure if I guessed it or not." Sam said brightly, employing the age old, patented Winchester diversion techniques. The tension seemed to melt away, a smile edging its way onto Cas' thin face that seemed to grow as Dean turned back to look at him.

"Yeah, meeting would be fun. Apart from the book part, no way am I talking about books with my kid brother." Dean grinned broadly and stretched out his hand mock- formally to shake. "I would like to invite you to the exclusive Camp Winchester, located approximately five minutes into the mass of brambles and trees behind your fence."

"I'm not sure when I can come." Cas muttered, gripping Dean's hand tightly (the kid was bloody stronger than he looked) and blushing again, brighter this time.

"Well we're not going anywhere." Dean snorted, a fond feeling spreading in his chest as the younger boy missed the joke completely.

"Okay... so is three nights fine, I think I can see you then." Cas said hopefully, still not letting go of Dean's hand in a spectacular show of social unawareness. "I need to be in the house during the day."

"Sure, I'll- we'll be waiting." Dean shot a frown at the already giggling Sam, glad that Cas didn't seem to have registered the slip of the tongue.

"Night Castiel, sleep well. I hope tomorrow's calmer for you." Sam added, lifting his hand in a farewell as Cas started to move off towards his back door. Dean waved abortively at the other boy's back and, when he was sure he was out of earshot, kicked Sammy sharply in the shin. "Ow!" Sam yelped.

"Don't look so smarmy, I said I instead of we, big deal." Dean snarled. Sam just smirked and continued walking, shining the torch along the portion of fence that was shortest.

"Ever hear of the phrase Freudian slip, Dean?"

"Oh shut up!"

"... And you said this wasn't a rom-com."

"Bitch."

"Jerk!"

**Just for those that are wondering, there will be Destiel romance where they are both adults... this fic is going to be in two parts with a thirteen year gap between.**

**Thanks for the support, very much appreciated you lovely people :)**

**CC is always loved and probably needed :D**


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